It isn't that hard to love you
by Dianaprince89
Summary: She wouldn't be the one to break Maura. And deep down, she acknowledged the root of her fear. She couldn't let Maura break her.


Jane paused in the doorframe, leaning lightly against the sturdy surface.

She inhaled deeply, exhaling the air with a soft _whoosh_.

It was times like this when she most wanted to shut the world away. To lock the door she was incongruously keeping open. To hold the rest of the universe at bay.

Maura was asleep in Jane's bed.

She hadn't stirred when Jane got up, another reminder of the way things were so very _not ok_.

Maura had been mugged on her way home after work. She had called Jane from the ER, her voice clear and calm.

She had filed a report with the officer who responded, allowed herself to be transported to the hospital for a few stitches- _from falling, not from being attacked_ she had stressed, and a couple band-aids, and made small talk on the ride back to her home. She had seemed fine when Jane picked her up, in the car on the way home, once they arrived at Maura's house.

Jane had pushed, tried to insist that she would stay with Maura.

To keep her safe, to protect her.

Maura had been adamant.

She was _fine._

Angela was in the guesthouse. Jane was only a phone call away. The whole ordeal was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. She was _fine_. All she needed was some sleep.

She pressed until Jane gave in and went home.

And then she'd shown up, completely unexpected and unannounced, at Jane's door at two in the morning in nothing but a t-shirt and some yoga pants despite the frigid temperature outside.

Her eyes were red and puffy, her lower lip trembled, she vibrated with a visible _need._

Jane hated herself for leaving. She hated Maura for pushing her away.

Wordlessly, she pulled Maura into a crushing embrace, closing the door to lock out the world.

They stood there for long minutes, Maura trembling in her grasp, as Jane stroked her hair, her neck, her back. Maura clutched her hands tightly in Jane's shirt, fisting it in fragile fingers.

"Why didn't you let me stay?" Jane rasped. She was surprised to hear her voice in the otherwise silent room.

She hadn't meant to speak. To ask.

Deep down, she knew she wouldn't like the answer.

"I can't always need you."

Jane's gut clenched and she wanted to protest. To rail against the assertion.

But Maura didn't need that. Didn't need debate or argument. She needed love, compassion, tenderness.

"Come to bed," Jane coaxed. She stepped back slightly to move towards her bedroom but Maura resisted.

"When I close my eyes," Maura protested.

"I'm right here," Jane asserted. "I'm here. You're safe."

Maura looked up, dark wide eyes shining with fear. Jane's gut clenched for an entirely different reason as she watched the emotions shift in Maura's gaze.

That fear turned to trust. The trepidation to certainty. And under it there was something deep and dangerous, swirling like a rip tide.

It was just below the surface, invisible to the naked eye.

But Jane could feel it pulling at her. It was too strong to fight, and she knew she'd exhaust herself and drown if she tried.

Her only hope was to skirt it, to swim parallel to the shore of Maura's emotional volatility, and hope to come out unscathed.

"Come on," she rasped, her tone leaving no room for argument. She took Maura by the hand and led her towards the bedroom.

She left Maura standing by the side of the bed. Turning on the bathroom light, Jane allowed a sliver of illumination to fall into the bedroom.

Her grown-up nightlight.

Maura was still standing awkwardly next to Jane's bed, her chest rising and falling heavily.

Jane handed her a clean, worn BPD sweatshirt, practically forcing Maura into it. Then she pulled back the covers and waited for Maura to climb under the flannel and down.

Coming around to the opposite side of the bed, Jane had barely made contact with the mattress before Maura was clinging to her.

"I'm right here," Jane repeated. "I'm sorry I left you."

Maura didn't respond, simply burrowed further against Jane and nodded into her neck.

Maura had tossed in her sleep all night, plagued by nightmares. She never woke, instead tossing restlessly, a pained look on her face.

Jane had barely slept, waking repeatedly to soothe her friend.

She would smooth a tender hand across her brow, lightly comb through her honey-blonde locks, rasp a gentle hand across impossibly soft skin.

Maura's face would crumble, her breathing would lull into an even cadence, her muscles would relax.

Jane had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Her all-night vigil took a toll, and not just on her sleep. When she got out of bed, Jane was drained.

And she knew, without a doubt, that she never wanted to spend a single night apart from Maura.

She wanted to comfort her during nightmares. Hold her while she slept. Love her unconditionally.

And Maura's words repeated endlessly in her head.

_I can't always need you._

What had she meant?

Jane would always be there.

Always.

Didn't Maura know that?

Now, as she looked at Maura in her bed, Jane felt her chest tighten.

Her hair was tousled, her face finally calm, her bandaged hand clutching tightly to the bedspread. She was surrounded by Jane's sweatshirt, Jane's flannel sheets.

But Jane wanted it to be her bare skin that was keeping Maura safe and warm.

When she'd woken up and looked out the window, noticed the low hanging fog that obscured everything around them, she'd wanted to make Maura breakfast and eat it in bed, their legs pressed together from hip to toe under the downy comforter.

She'd wanted to kiss Maura awake, whisper soft words of love and encouragement in her ear until she coaxed one of those unguarded smiles that made her heart ache.

Even the idea of it seemed foolish.

Maura was straight as an arrow. She was also her best friend.

And the idea of losing her best friend made Jane's stomach knot.

Even if…

Even _if_ she and Maura somehow ended up dating, she'd still lose her best friend.

The best friend she'd ever had.

The very idea made her feel panicked and nauseous, heavy like a stone.

She couldn't lose Maura.

She _wouldn't._

Then she would have no best friend.

Jane would have no one to turn to, to laugh with, to love her unconditionally.

Because inevitably, she would screw things up with Maura. History would repeat itself and Jane would say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and drive her away.

The thought of putting that wounded, soft fear in Maura's eyes nearly brought Jane to her knees.

She wouldn't be the one to break Maura.

And deep down, she acknowledged the root of her fear.

She couldn't let Maura break _her_.

Maura stirred slightly and Jane inadvertently held her breath, waiting to see if the other woman would wake. When Maura stilled, Jane relaxed.

Her secret was safe, for now.

Entering the room, Jane found herself drawn to Maura's side of the bed. She stared down, unable to resist the need to touch. She brushed the hair back from Maura's forehead, her jaw clenching when Maura leaned into the touch, even in sleep.

_Like a moth to a flame_, Jane thought wryly.

She couldn't help herself.

Sitting delicately on the edge of the bed, she let her hand trail down to Maura's jawline, her neck, before sliding back to rest against her cheek.

Maura was warm and soft and Jane wondered if she had that same irresistible smoothness everywhere. When she started to pull back, a firm grasp on her wrist stopped her.

Startled, she looked down.

Maura's eyes were open.

Wide open.

Jane felt like she was looking down an endless well to a source she couldn't discern. Maura's hand on her wrist didn't ease. The skin of Maura's cheek seared her palm.

Sleepy, dark eyes didn't stray from hers.

Maura licked her lips. Swallowed harshly.

Jane tried to remember how to breathe.

The air in the room crackled.

She jerked her hand away, stood abruptly.

Fled the room.

She wasn't strong enough for this.

Give her guns, gore, and the grim realities of life. Those she could handle.

But this…

This was something else entirely. Something she wasn't equipped to handle.

Something she wasn't ready for.

Not now.

Not yet.


End file.
